


Personal Sandman

by cowboykylux



Series: Pale x Reader Vignettes [33]
Category: Burn This - Wilson
Genre: Comfort, F/M, Light Angst, Nightmares, Tenderness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:01:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25630261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cowboykylux/pseuds/cowboykylux
Summary: Pale wakes you up from a nightmare, and comforts you until you go back to sleep.
Relationships: Pale (Burn This)/Reader, Pale (Burn This)/You
Series: Pale x Reader Vignettes [33]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1389784
Comments: 1
Kudos: 10





	Personal Sandman

He doesn’t know if it’s real or not, what’s goin’ on. Sometimes he gets fucked up like that, gets fucked up and can’t tell. He ain’t too sure if it’s the coke or the booze or the sex or what, he doesn’t know. But sometimes he hallucinates shit and sometimes it’s real.

He doesn’t know if this is real, if you’re really jolting and shuddering and crying in his arms. You ain’t never done that before, so he doesn’t know what the fuck it looks like, doesn’t know how to tell if it’s real.

But then you’re callin’ out his name, mumbling and whining it as hot tears burn into his chest where your face is pressed against him, and he snaps the fuck out of it, panic flooding him, dumpin’ ice cold water onto his brain.

“Hey,” He urges softly, a baseball mitt for a hand shaking your shoulder enough to get you outta whatever situation your brain has come up with. “(Y/N), wake up.”

Your eyes snap open, and you bolt upright, taking the covers with you. You don’t sleep with too much shit, Pale gets too hot, bitches about the heat. Even in the wintertime he runs hot, feels like he’s got a fuckin’ toaster oven shoved up his ass or something. So there’s only one blanket, and it’s pooling around your waist, and you’re cryin’, shivverin’ shakin’ shudderin’, and Pale’s panicking.

“You’re alright, hey listen to me.” He chases you when you sit up, he sits up too, keeps his arms around you, hopes it’s soothing. “You’re alright, you’re okay.”

“Pale – fuck, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to – ” You hiccup, wiping away tears that you had no control over.

He pulls back enough to cup your cheeks, to thumb away the wetness on your cheeks. It’s so dark, in the middle of the fuckin’ night it’s gotta be, the moon still out and everything. It’s kinda covered by clouds, and Pale wonders for half a second if that’s what fuckin’ did it, if the darkness of the moon was giving you bad dreams. 

“Nah nah nah, don’t go apologizing for shit. Come here, it’s okay, you’re okay.” He kisses you softly, can feel your heartbeat thrumming under his fingers.

“Hold me?” You ask, your chin wobbling, and Pale crushes you to his chest once more, falls back back back onto the mattress so you can lay down and be held just as you ask.

He tries to think, tries to remember how he fixed this shit for his kids. They’d sometimes come into the bedroom, holding a pillow to their chest, hugging it before they could ask Pale for a real hug. He tries to remember what he would tell them to get them to calm down, tries to remember what helped when he walked the kids back to their rooms if his bitch of a wife wasn’t in the mood to let them climb into bed and be with them.

“Do you want to talk about it? Want to stay up for a bit?” Pale asks, remembering how the talkin’ always helped.

But you just sigh, shake your head.

“No, not right now. We can go back to sleep, I’m sorry I don’t know what came over me.” You say. Pale knows you well enough by now to know you’ll tell him when you’re ready, just the same way that he tells you things when he’s ready.

You respect that about each other, so alls he does instead is cradle the back of your head against his chest, comb his fingers through your hair in a steady movement that slows your frantic heart to somethin’ a little more normal.

“Tomorrow night I’ll do a better job of fuckin’ you good enough to get you havin’ nothin’ but good dreams, okay?” Pale whispers, and attempt to get you to smile. 

“Okay.” It works, he can feel your lips against his neck, as you lean up for a kiss and a, “Pale?”

“That’s my name.” He says, cheeky against your mouth as he kisses you back, settles you both on your sides so you don’t gotta look at the moon.

“Thank you.” You shuffle closer to him, nuzzle further into his arms, and his heart pangs that he can’t do more for you.

“Always sweetheart, always.” He says earnestly, watching and waiting as you fall asleep once again.

He doesn’t, he can’t, go back to sleep. Not now, he reasons, he’s gotta keep watch, be your own personal sandman. He’s an early riser anyway he figures, ain’t no reason for him to go to sleep only to wake back up again.

So he watches, keeps carding his fingers through you hair.

And the next time you say his name in your sleep, it’s a pleased sigh, a happy mumble, a sign he’s done a good job, and he smiles.


End file.
